Wiltshire
by ArianaFaithful
Summary: In the right place at the right time, a young serving girl of the Malfoy Manor becomes Draco’s childhood companion. An illegitimate friendship develops between the two while Draco faces his father expectations and Hermione discovers a secret of her own...
1. Tonight, Near SouthWest

**Tonight, Near South-West **

"_Between two evils, I always pick the one I never tried before." ~ Mae West.

* * *

_

He watched the guards from behind the shadows. It was well after three am, and he was sure his chance would appear before him shortly. Underfoot, the gravel rustled silently as he shifted his weight to his right leg. The man wrapped his hand around his wand, his grip tightening. The sense of urgency was growing stronger.

A bouncing light from a wand and the sounds of deep laughter alerted him to the presence of the next night shift of guards. Darting out of the shadows, with the aid of a concealment charm, he moved along the wall. Three men, one tall and thin, one short and round and one who looked… very familiar, approached the guards who were on duty.

"Bob!" the short and round one called. One of the guards who sat by the door looked up with a grin.

"Gunny, it's been too long. How was your trip?"

The three approaching guards now reached the on-duty guards. They clasped hands briefly and Gunny began a friendly conversation.

Keeping his eye on the familiar man, the man from the shadows reached the wall close to the doorway, where the guards were situated. Keeping his breathing even, he gently stole forwards into the doorway. He was only inches from Gunny, who was saying very spiritedly how his wife had particularly enjoyed the beaches at night, if they knew what he meant, when the familiar looking man froze and turned his gaze over Gunny's shoulder. Right to where the man from the shadows was standing.

"Listen Gunny," he said slowly. "I don't mean to be rude, but we should really get on-duty and let these men knock off."

The man under the concealment charm remained frozen.

"Of course," beamed Gunny. "We'll continue this discussion Friday night, at the Leaky Cauldron, boys?"

The three previous guards all nodded and spoke their acceptance and with goodbyes, left their previous posts.

As the short, round man sat on a stool, and the tall, thin man pressed his back against the wall, his eyes peering across their surroundings, the man who appeared familiar to the man under the concealment charm, nodded.

The man under the concealment breathed out in relief after the man nodded, and continued to gently push his way silently through the doorway, which was resting half open.

Once he was inside the atrium, he let out a shallow breath. It had been close, he knew that much. He was simply lucky he had aided the familiar man two years previously. It had involved money, a lot of money, at the time; he remembered that much.

He drew his cloak around him tighter, removing the concealment charm and strode powerfully towards the staircase.

The man hurried up the stairs, attempting to find the perfect balance between speed and silence. He reached the second floor, his long fingers resting on the banister of the grey concrete steps. He paused, listening. There was a faint rustling behind a door that led to the second floor corridor.

Continuing up the staircase, the man drew his wand once more. When he reached the fifth floor, he tapped his wand onto a rich burgundy door and it lit up with a purple circle. Content, he pushed the handle and stole into the fifth floor corridor.

Passing cubicles and offices, the man made his way to the end of the corridor. He paused at a locked door, which seemed darker and larger than any of the other doors he had passed. The man moved swiftly into the dark office. His shadow leaned upon the desk, which was littered with scraps of parchment and quills, as he placed his wand lightly against the locked cupboard.

"_Alohamora,_" he whispered. "_Lumos."_

There was a gentle click and the door released itself and swung open. His fingers flicking over the files, he paused. It was there.

An immense feeling of a crucial job well-done enclosed over him and with long, pale fingers, he plucked the file from the cupboard and placed it on the desk.

Flipping through the documents, he grinned. It had all the information he needed to succeed.

The sound of approaching footsteps made the man freeze where he stood.

"He said to check the fifth floor," the muffled voice of a woman floated into the dim room.

The man snatched the file from the desk and tucked it under his cloak. It was resting against his heart, which had begun to beat incessantly faster. He moved back to the cupboard and locked it with his wand, then walked quickly to the centre of the room. Circling twice, he clicked his fingers and vanished.

The man and woman, who were check the fifth floor, opened the end office door and quickly peered around the room.

"Nothing," the man said to the woman, who shrugged.

As they turned and left the office, locking it behind them, a small whiff of black mist darted out of the door into the corridor and out an open window.

The man, who had become the black mist, flew over the grounds of the building and settled behind a tree just on the outskirts of the city. The mist rose and spun, turning him back into a solid figure. Stepping out onto the path, the man walked swiftly towards the corner of the street, before disappearing with a soft _pop!_

The man materialised into what appeared to be a small drawing room. A fireplace, surrounded by a black marble mantelpiece, contained a fire. Three pastel green gilded arm chairs sat around the fireplace with small coffee tables situated between them. The walls were a golden cream colour and drapes hung heavily over the two windows.

Seemingly familiar with where he was, the man balanced himself and dropped down into the closest arm chair. He shut his eyes and snapped his fingers. A sharp _snap_ caused the man to lazily open one eye.

"Yes master?" an old, thin and balding man enquired.

"Caldwell, notify our guest that I have what I was looking for. Tell him to meet me in the study in ten minutes time."

Caldwell bowed, nodding his head and vanished.

The man stretched out his legs and hummed to himself. Today things had finally paid off. He had managed to locate what he had sought for five years. It had taken him the first four years alone to locate the prophecy, and narrow down the possibilities to one person, then the previous year to confirm and track down the whereabouts of this particular person…

Rising to his feet, the man left the drawing room, entering into a grand entrance hall. He headed up the west staircase and walked along a darkened corridor. It was still very early in the morning, and the man felt himself becoming more and more joyous as each moment passed.

The man reached a rich mahogany doorway and pushed both doors open. He sat down behind a desk, clearing it of any previous scraps of parchment, and withdrew the file from his cloak. He placed it delicately down onto the desk.

There was a knock at the door, and the man raised his head to see his guest standing in the doorway.

"You have it?" the guest asked.  
The man grinned. "Sit."

"It was only a matter of time," the man began, as his guest sat down across the desk from him. "All I have to do is find the girl, as the Lord asked of me, five years ago."

"And you are sure of whom it is?" the guest asked, peering curiously at the file on the desk, then back up to the man's face. The black, greasy hair was pushed back from his face as it fell into his eyes. "There's no way you could be wrong?"

The man chuckled and stood up.

"Severus, I have made no mistake," the man said, pushing the file towards his guest. "Here, look at her. It is her, I am sure."

Snape pulled the file open and glanced briefly over the details, then at the picture of the five year old girl. He pushed the file back to the man.

"I… you have done well. Very well Lucius."

Lucius smiled wickedly and stared down at the open file.

The photograph of Hermione Granger stared back at him.


	2. Wiltshire

**Wiltshire**

_"We cannot live happily apart from our fellow men nor among them. We perish of boredom in the country and of fury in the city." ~ Brian Stanley_

* * *

Draco Malfoy sat at the small kitchen table on Sunday morning. Usually, this table was used for the servants, but with his father away on business and his mother visiting her sisters for a few days, so, feeling lonely and needing the company of someone else, he headed to the kitchen. That was how he found himself sitting opposite Dobby the House Elf, who, like Draco, was thoroughly engaged in his bowl of sugary cereal.

At first, when Draco had come down and told the house elf he wanted the sweet cereal, Dobby had said firmly that his mother had told him not to feed it to Draco, except on special occasions. When Draco had demanded the cereal, and even offered Dobby a bowl of it if Draco was allowed to eat it, Dobby finally caved. Dobby had plans to press his head in between the door and the door jamb later, however.

Draco looked down at his empty bowl of cereal, and then pushed it away. Dobby quickly jumped up and, grabbing both his and Draco's bowls, hurried towards the sink and began washing the dishes.

"Does young master want anything else for breakfast?" Dobby squeaked.

"No thanks Dobby," Draco said, rising from the table. "I'm going to the gardens to play outside."

"Yes, young master. Make sure you come back inside in time for lunch. Your father will be home around dinner time."

"Alright," Draco said as he stood on tip-toes to reach the kitchen door handle and pushed the door open.

"Be safe, young master!" Dobby called after him.

"Dobby, I'm ten!" Draco cried exasperatedly. "I'll be fine!"

He left the kitchen, walked through the attached greenhouse and out into the stone courtyard. He circled the courtyard until he was bored and randomly picked a path leading away into another section of the garden. He shoved his small hands into his pockets and watched his feet scuff moodily along the ground as he walked.

A cloud passed in front of the sun, causing the air to become darker. He lifted his head higher and peered left and then right. There was a statue up ahead. It was of a tall wizard brandishing a wand. Draco suddenly had an idea for a game in his head, and he darted in the bushes next to his legs. He snapped off a twig from the bush and pretended it was his wand.

He gripped it tightly but casually, like he had seen his father and mother do with their wands. Darting back onto the path, he pointed his wand at the statue ahead of him. He thought carefully about the spell he would use, working through all the effects and possible outcomes in his mind. Although he didn't know any real spells, he raised he wand to the statue and confidently bellowed "MAGICIFY", before hopping quickly back across the path and jumping back into the bushes, hidden from his statue enemy who was out for his blood.

That statue wouldn't be able to move for a minute or so, Draco figured his spell had seen to that, so he had to come up with a plan to get out of there, without the statue seeing, or being able to place a spell on Draco as he fled. He tapped his wand into the dirt, hoping for inspiration to strike.

"A spell," Draco muttered. "A spell…"

It hit Draco then, the perfect spell. The statue would never know what hit it! He could say the magic spell, and then hop to it back up the path and into the courtyard. Draco squatted, preparing for the exact moment to strike upon his unwitting enemy. He jumped out of the bush and turned his wand towards the statue once more, all in less than a second.

"SUPER MAGICIFY!" Draco bellowed.

"AHHH!" a girl screamed. She was in front of him, blocking his spell access to the statue. A pink petticoat dress hung off her short frame. Her golden brown hair was plaited to each side of her head.

"AHHH!" Draco screamed back, completely shocked at her sudden appearance.

The girl recovered first.

"What spell did you put on me?" she cried franticly, spinning around rapidly, as though trying to spot a new grown tail.

Draco started at the panicking girl; his jaw had dropped open in shock. Then he started laughing hysterically.

The girl grew haughty and placed both hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at him.

"Why are you laughing?" she demanded.

"It wasn't a real spell," Draco said, a smirk dancing on his face. "You looked so stupid!"

The girl harrumphed and narrowed her eyes even more so.

"Who are you anyway?" Draco asked the girl, finding her annoyance with him highly amusing.

"My name is Hermione," the girl said. "I work here."

"You work here? How old are you anyway?" Draco asked, his eyes narrowing.

Hermione cocked her head to the side slightly. "I'm ten years old," she said proudly. "How old are you?"

"I'm ten too," Draco said. "What do you do here?"

"I do all sorts of things," Hermione told him matter-of-factly. "Sometimes I help Caldwell with cleaning inside, sometimes I help in the kitchen with Dobby and sometimes I work outside with your mother, when she plants flowers."

"How come I've never seen you before?" Draco asked, his eyes still narrowed at her.

"You have, plenty of times."

"No, I haven't."

"Yes, you have."

"Have not."

"Have too."

"Okay, where?"

"In the drawing room, every Sunday morning when your parents make you take brunch with them," Hermione said, a grin of triumph spreading across her face as a look of dawning crossed Draco's. "When they talk to you about stuff, like Hogwarts!"

Draco smirked at her.

"My name's been down to go there since before I was born," he told Hermione proudly.

"Ooh, you're so lucky!" Hermione squealed. "I wish I could go to Hogwarts. It sounds like so much fun. All the spells you'll get to learn, and the great books you'll get to read!"

Draco looked at her oddly.

"You can do that here you know."

"What?" Hermione said sharply.

"Yeah, come on!" Draco said excitedly. "I'll show you!"

He raced back up the path to the court yard and threw open the greenhouse door. He could hear Hermione running behind him. She seemed to be talking to herself. He heard the phrases 'books' and 'exciting' more than once. Draco reached the east staircase and took it two steps at a time. He spun around at the top of the stairs, expecting to see the girl half-way up.

"Where are we going?" Hermione cried from beside him.

Draco jumped slightly.

"Just_ come on_," he called, grabbing her hand and pulling her along behind him.

When Draco reached the library doors on the second floor, he watched Hermione gasp as he pushed the two large, golden doors open.

"This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my entire life," he heard Hermione whisper.

Draco felt the smirk tugging at his lips again as he strode into the library confidently and pulled a book off the self, as if he came in here all the time.

"I know," he said smugly. "Father says it's one of the biggest collections of Wizarding history in England. There's the Hogwarts library, of course. And then the GBWL."

"The GBWL?" Hermione asked as she walked silently over to the nearest shelf. She placed the tips of her fingers on the spines of the books and, with huge sigh, began to walk up the rows, touching every book on the shelf.

"The Great Britain Wizarding Library."

"Where is it?" Hermione asked.

"Do you know Diagon Alley?" Draco asked as he followed her further into the library.

Hermione nodded. "I've heard of it."

"Well, you catch the train from platform 6, the one that heads out to here. When you reach the GBWL Station, you get off. It's about a third of the way from Diagon Alley to Wiltshire."

"How many books are there?" Hermione asked, turning to Draco and focusing her full attention on him. "At the Great Britain library?"

"Father says there are thousands, almost twice as many as in here. He spent a few years a while back, adding to the collection of this library. That's why there's now a second floor to it."

"A second floor?" Hermione asked.

"Look up."

Hermione tipped her head back and stared at what should have been the ceiling, but was a second level of rows and rows of books. The shelves were fixed along the wall, with a carpeted pathway which extended two meters off from the shelves, before become a balcony with rich, golden framing. There was a mural of what Draco had always figured to be a Wizarding Duel on the ceiling.

"Wow," breathed Hermione.

Draco began chuckling at her.

"What?" she asked, still staring at the second story of books.

"Would you like to borrow one?" he asked seriously.

Hermione tore her gaze away from the books and stared at Draco, horrified.

"Oh no!" she cried, more to herself than to Draco. "I'm not supposed to be here. I'm only allowed in rooms which Mister Malfoy has told me to be in. If I took a book from here-"

Hermione stopped talking, fear widening her eyes. "Oh no, I couldn't."

Draco stared at her. Why was she so scared of Father?

"Would you like one from my room? Father will never notice if I'm missing a book from in there."

Hermione pressed her little hands to her chest and breathed out.

"Could I really?" she whispered, hope lighting up her face.

Draco nodded, another smirk coming to his face.

"Come on! I'll show you!"

He turned on his heel and raced to the library door, puffing but excited. Hermione was walking slowly to the door, her eyes fixed upon the rows of books.

"Hermione! Come on!" Draco cried.

She looked up at him and quickly came over. He shut the large doors and took off at a sprint towards his bedroom down the hall. When he reached his room and walked inside, he headed straight over to the large bookshelf, which contained books, toys and a broomstick, which leant upon its side.

Hermione looked at the shelf.

"This is your room?" she whispered.

"Yep," Draco said, still smug at her obvious awe.

"Which book can I take?" she asked.

Draco crossed his arms and leant against the wall, trying to appear casual.

"Whichever one you want," he told her, deepening his voice.

She looked at him with a huge smile blossoming over her face. She then turned to the bookshelf and scanned the titles. Figuring it would take her a while; he pulled a miniature Comet 260, an exact replica of his own broom, off the shelf and watched it spin around the room. By the time it had done its third lap of the room, she pulled a book off the shelf.

He looked down at the book she was gripping tightly between her two small hands.

_Leda and the Swan._

He didn't even remember that book.

"Can I borrow this one?" she asked him quietly.

Snatching the broom out of the air as it zoomed past again, he nodded.

"Sure. Return it whenever."

"Oh thank you, Draco Malfoy!" Hermione cried, hugging him fiercely.

Inside her embrace, Draco froze. No one had hugged him for sharing something before. Not that he had really shared, as such. Slowly, he reached his small arms around her body and gently, very gently, hugged her back.

She pulled away and stared down at the book.

"I should go," she said, staring at him with a huge smile. "Dobby wants me in the kitchen by twelve."

Draco nodded, and watched as she left the room with a happy wave.

"Bye Draco Malfoy!"

"Bye, Hermione."

Draco watched her leave, and then ran out into the hall and looked over the banister as she ran down the stairs to the kitchen.

Her pink petticoat dress was really very pretty, Draco thought. For a serving girl.

* * *


	3. The Solitary Suicide of the Drawing Room

**The Solitary Suicide of the Drawing Room**

"_If the minimum wasn't good enough it wouldn't be the minimum." ~ Franz Hamilton _

* * *

Hermione sat on her small bed. Her caretaker, Marta, the woman who washed and mended the clothes for the Malfoys, had told her to turn off the light an hour ago. Hermione had supped with her and quickly climbed into bed to start reading. She had read the blurb on the back of the book twelve times, and knew there were 317 pages in the book. She was already approximately half-way through, and had found some of the words difficult to understand. When she came across such a word, she pulled out the small roll of parchment she kept under her pillow, and a quill and wrote the words down. She would ask Draco Malfoy if she could use a dictionary when she returned _Leda and the Swan._

As she flicked the pages over of the tenth chapter, Hermione realised the book seemed older than she had first thought. There had been no published date on the inside of the book, and the yellowing pages made a loud crinkling noise which made Hermione squirm with delight. The book smelt slightly musty, as though it had been kept hidden someplace dark for a while, forgotten for many years. She was glad Draco Malfoy had had it on his shelf. _Leda and the Swan_ was better than the stories that Marta would sometimes tell her when they sat in front of the fire, eating melted cheese with bread.

With each chapter, Hermione became more and more eager to reach the end of the book. The words seemed to flow, so easily, from the pages of the tired, yellowing book to be planted like seeds into her mind. Hermione, with a grin, decided that books would be her solace for being forced to work in the Malfoy Manor. For not having a friend, except Marta and Caldwell, for her parents dying when she was a little girl. For not being able to go to Hogwarts. For not being magical.

At last, the candle on the tiny table beside her bed began to flicker. The wick was drowning in a sea of wax, having eaten the candle to its base. She shut the book, memorising the page number she was up too and placed the book gently next to her pillow. Hermione blew out the candle and lay back, staring at the roof. She shut her eyes and fell asleep with the book next to her head.

The following Sunday morning, Hermione stood inside the Malfoy kitchen. She was wearing a blue and white, button down, pinstripe petticoat, with a white waist apron over her dress. A platter rested, empty, in her arms as she stood by Dobby and Marta, who were both busy cooking the Malfoy's their Sunday brunch.

She had placed the kettle on the stove to boil, like she had been taught. Hermione had then gone out into the rose garden and plucked two yellow roses and one white. She returned inside to place them in a glass vase inside the drawing room, and then lit the fire.

Marta had called her into the kitchen, where Hermione now stood as Dobby and Marta placed the cooked foods onto plates for Hermione to take in. Once the tea and breakfast was ready, Hermione balanced them all carefully and left the kitchen. She pushed the drawing room door open to find the three Malfoy's now sitting around the fire, chatting. She treaded over to the table at the back of the room and put the platter down, bringing Lucius and Narcissa their tea.

"Draco, dear," Narcissa said as she pulled the tea cup to her lips. "You have seemed out of sorts all week. Ever since I returned from Aunt Bella's."

"I'm fine, mother," Draco said as Hermione placed a small glass of pumpkin juice in front of him. He had been watching her out of the corner of his eye ever since she entered the room.

"But you've been moodier than usual. What is it? Do you feel unwell?"

"Mother, I'm not sick."

"But Draco-"

"Cissy, let him be," Lucius interrupted smoothly as Hermione placed the different plates of food onto the table. "Let him eat and then enjoy the sun outside. That will be all, Hermione."

Hermione then curtsied and left the room without a word.

She returned to the drawing room half an hour later to find Draco Malfoy gone. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy sat, talking about their son.

"Something's not right," Narcissa said, her hand covering her eyes.

"Cissy, do you think he's lonely?" Lucius asked.

Narcissa removed her hand from her head and sat up straight, looking straight at her husband.

"I knew there was a reason I married you!" she cried. "But what can we do? Get him a playmate?"

Hermione moved over to the table and picked up Draco's empty brunch plate and juice glass. She quickly added Lucius and Narcissa's empty plates to the pile.

"Hermione," Lucius said after a while.

"Yes sir?"

"Hermione, I need you to stay with Draco when he gets bored… particularly when Narcissa and I are away. You will be at his beck and call, you will play the games he wants to play and you will keep him company if he is sad or bored, do you understand?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes sir."

"There is one condition, however," Narcissa said, looking Hermione up and down. "You must not become _friends_ with him. You are a mudblood, and he is a Malfoy. You must remember that you are there to serve him."

Hermione nodded, an icy feeling of inadequacy sealing over her heart.

"Excellent," Lucius claimed, rising to his feet. "I'll show you to your new room." Hermione quickly placed the empty brunch plates onto the back serving table and followed Lucius out of the drawing room. He said nothing to her as he ascended up the east staircase and onto the second floor. Hermione gazed around the manor as she was led. She had never seen this part of the mansion before. They had already passed Draco Malfoy's room, and she briefly saw a glimpse of the library doors as she followed Lucius up another staircase. She sighed.

When she reached the top, there was a small landing and a door. Lucius swung the door open. The room was obviously a smaller sub-section of an attic, and there was a keen view of the Sunday morning sky rolling into the small room. The room was easily two sizes larger of her present room in the servant's house, which was located at the edge of the east garden. The walls were a pale blue, and the ground was a white painted floorboard. White lace curtains hung from the window.

"This will be your room," Lucius said, materialising a small bed, desk and wardrobe. "When Draco goes to school, you will become Narcissa's aid _if_ she has need of you. You will continue to serve us meals and go down to Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade every Wednesday and pick up anything Narcissa or I require."  
"Yes sir."

"When Draco returns home on holidays, you will resume your duty of his companion."

"Yes sir."  
Lucius cast a quick glance around the room before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

Hermione wandered over to the window. She could see most of the garden. The stone courtyard was on the far left of her vision, but in the centre and on the right she could see the long driveway to the front door of the house, and beyond it was the rest of the world.

Emotions dragged themselves up inside her and she ran over to the bed, throwing herself down. She sobbed until Marta required her that evening.

Draco Malfoy sat on a cold stone bench behind the courtyard. The cold stabbed him as the night air fell, numbing his thoughts. He kicked his feet along the ground, swinging them back and forth as he scuffed up dirt. Mother wouldn't be happy when she saw his shoes. He peered down in the semi darkness to see the blemish of kicked-up dirt he had created.

His thoughts roamed over the past few weeks. His father telling him about his expectations for Draco at Hogwarts. Slytherin. His mother leaving the manor to visit her sisters. His father leaving the manor for work. His discovery of a thin, moulding black leather notebook, which he still hadn't been able to open. Feeling incredibly alone and isolated. Finding solace in escaping the manor. Hermione.

His thoughts quickly sped up when he realised he was thinking about Hermione. He wasn't allowed to think of her. _Father. _He couldn't help himself as the memory came rushing back to him, forcing his mind to focus solely on it. His father, when he returned, had heard from Dobby, that Draco had made a friend. Lucius had been quick to tell Draco that he was not to become friends with the likes of a servant.

He had felt an incredible sinking feeling inside his stomach as he realised his father was right. It wasn't done. A Malfoy and a servant, friends? Even from his young age he realised that it just simply wasn't how the world worked. However, Draco felt very bitter at this revelation as he remembered how easily she had distracted him. How she had kept him company and entertained him.

His mind drifted forward, to that morning. She had walked in with a silver platter of breakfast, into the drawing room. It was Draco's least favourite room of the mansion. It was where his parents spoke to him of serious matters. Of what was expected of him at Hogwarts, how he should behave, to watch out for the Potter boy and try to get close to him. Befriend him. He didn't care about stupid Potter, but if his father and mother wanted him to, he would. It was also the room where he was taken when he did something tremendously wrong, like the time he thought it would be fun to set one of the House Elves free…

Hermione had been wearing a different dress this morning, than the first time he had seen her. He only noticed what she was wearing because… well, he noticed. He had kept the corner of his eyes on her the whole time she was in the room. How come he hadn't noticed her serving until she told him? Probably because of father and mother, and how Sunday was an important time for the family to bond. It really meant that Lucius and Narcissa would talk to Draco about future plans. He was sick of it. Sick of Hogwarts already. Sick of this 'Lord' Lucius kept mentioning sideways to Narcissa when he thought Draco wasn't listening. Sick of this house, but most of all he was sick of having no friends.

He had Crabbe and Goyle. The three would see each other once every month or so, when their parents would dine together. Were they his friends though? Draco wasn't sure. It was Crabbe and Goyle after all. He supposed they were fun to play wizard hunt with.

A light clicked on loudly behind him, startling Draco. He spun around, his eyes searching over the top of the bush to the door of the greenhouse. His mother stood at the door, calling Draco. Wiping his hands on his trousers, he jumped from his place on the stool, noticing with a slight pang, that his bottom had gone numb. He reached Narcissa and wrapped his small arms tightly around her waist.

"Where have you been, Draco?" she asked gently, stroking his hair.

"I just wanted to come outside for a bit," he said, his voice muffled.

"Come on inside, dear. I'll take you to your bath, and then you'll come down for dinner."

Draco let his hands drop from around his mothers waist and clasped onto her hand instead as she led him inside.

"Mama," Draco whined. "I don't want to have a bath!"

Narcissa scoffed. "What did you do outside? Roll around in a pile of dirt? You're absolutely filthy. Dobby!"

Dobby appeared beside them instantly, his long nose bounced slightly as he straightened the tea towel that was his clothes.

"Dobby, I would like you to take Draco upstairs and run a hot bath for him. Then collect his clothes and run them down to Marta. They're covered in dirt. When you've done that, retrieve Draco from the bath and walk him down to dinner."

Dobby nodded, letting out a small squeak as Draco took his hand and followed the house elf up the flight of stairs.

Once Draco was sitting in the bath tub, and Dobby had left with his dirty clothes, Draco sucked in a huge breath and ducked his head under the water. _Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop._ Draco came back up for air, chuckling at the remainder of the bubbles he had made. Blowing bubbles was one of his many pass times in the bath.

He pulled a jug and cup from the toy box at the end of the bath and placed the cup on the edge of the bath. He filled the jug up with the soapy water and poured it into the cup.

"Dobby!" Draco cried as the twitchy house elf returned to the bathroom. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

Draco picked up the cup on the edge of the bath and offered it to Dobby.

"Oh yes, thank you master," Dobby said, taking the cup from Draco and pretending to drink. "Very nice, sir."

Draco beamed at the house elf. "Would you like another one?"

"I would, young master, but you have to get out of the bath now."  
Draco pouted. "Do I have to?"

"I'm sorry, young master. Your mother says so."

Draco stood up and stepped out of the bath, taking the offered towel and wrapping it around himself. He wiped his feet on the bath mat and sprinted into his bedroom.

"Zoom!" he cried, opening up the towel like a cape. "I'm a quidditch player! And Malfoy catches the snitch! The crowd goes wild! Wahhhh!"

Draco collapsed onto his bed with a grin on his face.

Dobby stood by the door, a beaming smile on his face.

"It's time to get dressed now, young master."

Obligingly, Draco donned the clothes Dobby handed him and then followed him down stairs to the dinning hall. His father, as per usual, sat the head of enormous table. Draco's mother sat to his father's right, while he sat to his father's left, opposite his mother.

"You look gorgeous darling," Narcissa said as Draco sat down clumsily at the dinning table and took a sip of his pumpkin juice.

"So do you, mama," Draco said, remembering what his mother had taught him about compliments.

"Draco, your mother and I would like to talk to you about something," Lucius said. "We feel as though you would benefit from having a companion who you can play games with. The serving girl, Hermione, will be available to play with you whenever you get bored. You have only to call her name."

"Yes father," Draco said. Did Hermione want to play with him? Draco worried.

"If you need anything you can ask her or Dobby," his mother added.

"Thank you," Draco said quietly. He wasn't sure how he felt about this.

"She's staying in the top attic. The stair case nearby your room leads to hers, should you need her. You may not become her friend, do you understand?" Lucius said.

Draco nodded and pushed away his plate.

"I'm done. Can I go and play in my room?"

Narcissa nodded. "Off you go."

Draco pushed away his chair and walked out of the dinning room. He was going to visit Hermione.

When he reached the staircase near his bedroom he paused. Would she want him visiting her? Father had said she could play whenever he got bored. But would she hate him if he always bugged her?

Draco turned away from the staircase and bumped into someone, knocking him backwards a step.

"Oh, hello Draco Malfoy. Sorry, I didn't see you," Hermione whispered through her hair.

It was clear to Draco that she was upset, and judging by the redness of her eyes, that she had been crying. She was carrying a small wooden box with painted flowers covering it. It was nice, he guessed.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Hermione shrugged. "Nothing."

"Are you sure?" Draco asked, worried.

"Sure I'm sure," she said, lifting her head. She seemed to have recovered from what had been bothering her. "I'm just moving some of my stuff to my new room."

"Can I come and see it?" Draco asked.

"Uh, okay."

"Here, I'll take that," Draco said, taking the box gently from her and leading the way up the staircase. He opened her bedroom door and looked around. It was a lot smaller than his. There was only a small bed in the corner, a desk and a small wardrobe. There was no shelf of toys, or even of books. There was no broomstick or paintings on the walls of famous quidditch players.

He placed the box on her small desk and turned around. She stood in the doorway awkwardly, like she didn't belong there.

"Hermione?"

"Yes Draco Malfoy?"

"Would you like to come to my room and choose another book?" That had cheered her up last time.

"I haven't finished the first one, but thank you very much."

"Oh. Well when you have you can swap it for any book you like."

"Thank you."  
Draco noticed, even when she had moved over and sat on the edge of her bed, that she still looked very uncomfortable with her surroundings.

"What's the book about?"

"Oh," Hermione said, clearly thankful for the distraction. "There is a girl, Leda, who lives in a castle. Every night a swan lands on her window sill and peers in. It's the most beautiful bird she has ever seen, you see, so she falls in love with it. She leaves her window open one night and the swan flies in and sleeps at the end of her bed. When she wakes up she finds the gardener boy at the end of bed. I think they'll end up together and in love."

"How is the gardener boy a swan?" Draco asked.

"He's an animagius," Hermione said, proud she knew something magical that he did not.

"What's that?" Draco asked, sitting down on the bed beside her.

"It's where a witch or wizard can change into an animal."

"Wow. That's pretty cool."

Hermione nodded. "It would be pretty handy."

"We should become animagius!"

"Yeah!" Hermione beamed. "What do you want to be?"

"Do I have to be one animal, or can I be them all?" Draco asked, excitedly.

"Just one."

"Oh," Draco said. "Um. What's something that can run fast?"

"Er, a cheetah? Or a lion."

"I want to be a lion!" Draco cried. "They're big, and they have manes! I saw it in one of the muggle books I found in a corner of the library."

"I want to be a swan," Hermione said, gleefully.

"I'll be a lion, and you be a swan!" Draco cried. "Hurrah!"

Hermione giggled. "How do we become them then?"

Draco stopped cheering and looked at her. "You mean you don't know?"

"No, silly. I'm not allowed to be magical. I don't even know if I am magical."

"Oh."

"So what do we do?"

"Er," Draco thought, drawing his legs up to his chest and thinking. "We could check the library?"

"I'm not allowed in there."

"Okay, we'll make it a secret mission. We'll go tonight and look. I'll come and get you at midnight, okay?"

Hermione nodded and waved as Draco left her room.

She couldn't remember ever feeling this excited. Draco Malfoy made her smile, so that meant he could be her friend. Mister Malfoy wasn't going to stop that.

Hermione liked Draco too much.


	4. Sepia

**Sepia**

"_If the minimum wasn't good enough it wouldn't be the minimum." ~ Franz Hamilton _

* * *

Hermione quickly scuttled down the stairs, hot on Draco Malfoy's heels. The candle she was holding bounced light off the dim hallway, dancing around the walls.

"We have to be quiet, just in case," Draco said softly, pushing the library doors open. He hit a switch on the wall next to the doors and the library flooded with light.

Hermione blew out the candle, gazing at the nearest shelf.

"This way," Draco said, taking off towards the staircase. They pounded up to the second level. "You look that way, I'll look this way."

Hermione nodded and took off.

"Er, Hermione?" Draco said. "What exactly are we looking for?"

"Something that says animagus or transformations."

Draco nodded and began skimming titles.

There were books with titles he couldn't read. He could work out a few of the words in the titles, but couldn't quite piece together the whole thing. He began worrying if maybe he had already passed a book that would be useful, but had missed because he didn't know what the word transformations look like.

He turned around and looked over the balcony to the other side of the library. He could just make Hermione out, standing tip toed at a book shelf, trying to reach a book that was just beyond her grasp.

Maybe she'd found something, Draco figured. He abandoned his post and headed around to where Hermione was. By the time he reached her, she had managed to climb up the shelf and pull it down. She was sitting on the carpet cross legged, flicking through the small leather bound book.

"Did you find something?" he asked, sitting down beside her and peering over her shoulder to look at the book.

"I think so," Hermione said slowly, biting her bottom lip. "This is hard to read. I'm not this good in reading yet."

Draco patted her back awkwardly as tears began to well up in her eyes.

"It's ok, we're only five. We're good readers. Better than muggles anyway, Wizards learn faster."

"But I love reading!" Hermione wailed. She dropped the book and turned to Draco, a look of horror on her pale white face.

"What if I never get better?" Hermione whispered. "_What if I fail at reading?"_

Draco took in her horrified expression, and then her words registered. He began to chuckle.

"Oh, Hermione."

Hermione began sobbing. "Why are you laughing at me?"

"Oh no, Merlin. I'm sorry Hermione. I didn't mean to laugh. But you're the best reader I know."

Hermione peered up at him. "Really?"

Draco nodded fiercely.

"So what's in this book?"

Hermione picked it up off the floor and opened it back to the page she had it on previously.

"Well, I recognise the word animagus. And I think this chapter is the instructions for how to become one. But I can't read most of it."

Draco nodded. "Okay. Take this back to your room and hide it in the back of your closet. We'll get better at reading and then come back to it and then I'll be a lion and you'll be a swan!"

Hermione nodded, pushing away the last of her tears.

Slowly, they headed back to their rooms. They parted at Draco's bedroom door.

* * *

Hermione sat on her bed, with the book in her lap. She skimmed her hand over its cover. It was a pale pink hardback, with faded, paling edges and golden trim around the page edges. A stain, which appeared from a hot mug of coffee sat on the front, daring Hermione to open the book now that she was alone.

She hadn't stolen it, she told herself fiercely. Draco had told her to take it. He lived here, he could do that.

Delicately, she placed her fingers around the cover, pulling it open. The musty smell of the book filled the air around her, comforting her and making her drowsy. Refusing to lie down, she flipped through the first few pages, noting the contents.

She knew some of the words, perhaps around half. Animagus was titled in several different chapters. She skimmed through the remainder of the book, pausing as she noted the page numbers of each chapters beginning and studying the illustrations.

Hermione cringed at the drawings of men being transfigured into beasts, the expressions of pain written across their faces.

As her lamp flickered out Hermione slid the book under a loose plank underneath her bed frame. She clambered back into bed, pulling the moth eaten woollen blankets over her, whispering the page numbers of each chapter under her breath.

* * *

Five years had passed, summer after summer, winter after winter. It was the last day of August, a sharp wind was blowing from the north as Hermione donned her yellow petticoat and padded down the stairs towards Draco's room. She rasped gently on the door, flattening her hair and smoothing down her waist apron.

A grunt from inside the room signalled her entrance and she pushed the door open and headed towards the window, pulling the blinds open and allowing the morning sun to wake Draco Malfoy.

"Mister Malfoy," Hermione said in a monotone. "What would you like for breakfast this morning? Mrs Malfoy says you can choose whatever you like, seeing as it's your last day at the manor."

Draco Malfoy sat up in bed. He wore pyjama pants, and that was it.

"Eh, 'ello Ermy."

"Morning Draco," Hermione chuckled, pulling his clothes down from his dresser and placing them on the bed. "How are you feeling today?"

Draco yawned.

"Tired. You?"

Hermione grinned at him.  
"Oh you know me Mister Malfoy," Hermione said with an airy breeze as she spun about the room, packing things into his trunk he would need at Hogwarts. "I never get tired; even after all our midnight adventures to the library."

He sent a half hearted smirk her way and began putting on his day clothes.

"I think I might have some pancakes this morning, with strawberries and ice cream."

"Certainly, Mister Malfoy," Hermione said mockingly, and flounced out of his room.

She made her way to the kitchen with a smile on her face.

Hermione and Draco had spent the last five years sneaking around at night and discovering things about Malfoy Manor in the mysteriousness of darkness. During the day, when they were usually watched by Dobby, they played along to the role of Master and Servant Girl. While both knew Draco held the governing position, Hermione was not his servant girl in his eyes. She was his friend, his confident, his conscience and his guide.

It often amused Hermione to play along with the role of serving girl, particularly in front of Mister and Missus Malfoy. She had long since accepted the role, and though it dampened her soul to the very core, she tired to make light of it as much as she could. She counted Draco as a blessing of sorts, though she'd never tell him that – he'd completely take the mickey.

Ten minutes later, she served Draco his pancakes at the small table in the kitchen. Both of his parents were out for the morning, informing Hermione they would be home in time to spend their last evening with their son.

The day passed in a blur as Hermione tried her best to focus on the tasks she was set by Marta. She sat in the entrance hall, scrubbing the tiled floors. She was reminded of the story of a young girl with an evil stepmother and two step sisters Marta had told her before she had moved into the Manor itself.

The front door creaked open as Lucius Malfoy ushered his wife inside. Mister Malfoy was wearing a long black cloak, which Dobby hurried into the room to collect. Missus Malfoy was wearing a pale cream trench coat to batter the unseasonal chill. They both continued up the stairs without a word to neither Dobby nor herself.

Hermione shifted her position to clean the fresh footsteps her master and wife had left behind them. She pushed the wooden brush across the floor, the scraping of the bristles filling her ears. The steady rhythm of the soap slipping athwart the cold floor contained her hours.

Without mental stimulation, the young girl often found herself daydreaming. It was then that Draco Malfoy would often cross her mind. The way that he would chase her across the grounds on a sunny afternoon as they played tag, their laughter disrupting the butterflies seated on many of the blooming flowers. Or the way he crept up to her little bedroom at midnight almost every night so they could light a candle and read or talk until she would fall asleep in her bed, Draco Malfoy sitting cross-legged at the end. He would saunter off to his own bed, his mind wrapped in thoughts of the girl who fell asleep at his presence.

She often wondered what it would be like to have him at Hogwarts, gone for the school year. She would be lonely, she knew. Hermione feared September 1st, almost as much as she feared punishment from Mister Malfoy if he caught her doing something wrong.

Draco would often tell her stories of what he had heard about Hogwarts from his parents during their late night meetings. She knew that there were broomsticks that flew. Draco had showed her his miniatures collection when she had expressed an interest. Hermione also knew that there was a great lake, and that Draco's school was a huge castle, and that he got there by train.

These musings of Draco's future adventures at Hogwarts would set her mind running. How amazing it must be to be able to have such a future ahead of oneself. She knew Draco did not agree; that oftentimes he was surly in his parent's rigid expressions of expectations of him. But how Hermione _wished_ she could do magic, to leave the manor and live a life with a loving family around her.

Hermione pulled herself to her feet, straightening herself out and shuffling the soapy bucket of water over to window where she emptied the water onto the flower beds. She placed the bucket and scrubbing brush away in the cleaning closet beside the kitchen door and headed towards the smell of cooking dinner.

Marta and Dobby stood around the kitchen, moving ingredients from a large pantry to the benches before them. A glazed duck sat baking in the oven, with a large amount of potatoes and pumpkins bubbling around it. Hermione pulled out a small, wooden step ladder and pushed it towards the cupboards above the oven. She pulled down three white ceramic plates. The golden rims and emblazoned _M_ set this design of plates aside from the rest. She carried them over to Marta, who was pulling the cooked duck from the oven.

Hermione then padded into the dinning room, drawing two wine glasses from a glass cabinet and placing them at the heads of the tables. She selected the purple elf wine and poured it into the glasses, and then brought back a small jug of pumpkin juice from the kitchen for Draco. She set out the cutlery, placed a flower bouquet on the table and lit a centrepiece candle.

Satisfied Marta would be done serving the food, she hurried into the kitchen as Dobby disappeared with a crack to summon the Malfoy's to their meal. She pulled the plates onto a waiting tray and carried them into the dinning room. Hermione put them out in front of the chairs and slipped back into the kitchen as the dinning room door burst open and Lucius Malfoy stalked into the room.

From the other side of the door, Hermione breathed a sigh of resentment. She looked towards the small wooden kitchen table where Marta and Dobby were serving their own dinners and sat down at her seat. She ate the vegetables, her stomach grateful for the food, but wishing she had some of the meat the Malfoy's dined on every night.

The conversation was light between the three servants, as the loud voice of Lucius drifted into their ears. He was toasting the youngest Malfoy, telling him of teachers he knew well at Hogwarts, sharing stories of when he spent his learning years there.

The laughter that carried in from the dinning room shattered Hermione's heart, as it reminded of her of everything she could never have.

That night, Hermione crawled into bed, drawing her blankets up to her chin. She left the lace curtains open and watched as the moon travelled across the sky, free and haunting.

* * *

"Hermione!"

Hermione peeled her eyes open slowly.

"Wake up," Draco's voice whispered into her ear.

"I'm awake you house elf!" she cried, flipping over to face him.

He grinned back at her and pulled himself up onto the end of the bed.

"The moon's great tonight," Hermione pointed towards the window. "Looks even better now, at midnight. It's the only light in the sky."

Draco stood up and walked over to the window, staring out of it. He didn't say anything for several minutes, so Hermione let him ponder whatever was on his mind.

He spun around; something in his eyes had changed from the cheeky boy who had woken her up not five minutes ago.

"What if I don't get into Slytherin, Hermione" he said, chewing his lip and retaking his place on the end of the bed.

"Don't be silly, Draco. Of course you will. No Malfoy has ever been anything else. You tell me that all the time."

"I know," Draco whispered. "I don't want to be the one who gets sorted into Hufflepuff."

"Would it really be that bad?"

"Yes!"

"At least you get to _go_," Hermione said bitterly.

Draco looked at her sympathetically. "I wish you could come with me."

"I know," she sighed. "I don't know what I'm going to do for a whole year without you."

"I'm coming back for Christmas."

"That's still a few months away. It's weird, that you won't be here."

Draco looked down at his lap, and then shifted his gaze back to the moon.

"Yeah," he said simply.

"Will you write to me?" Hermione asked, hope coursing through her body.

"All the time!" Draco cried, seemingly happy to talk about something cheerier. "I'll write you at least one letter every week!"

"I want you to tell me everything!" Hermione said, imagining Hogwarts in her mind. "I'm so jealous."

Draco smiled sadly at her, and climbed off her bed.

"I should get to bed, Mother is making me get up extra early tomorrow so we can head to the station with plenty of time."

"Goodnight, Draco," Hermione said as he walked to the door and pulled it open.

"Goodnight, Hermione," Draco called back softly, shutting the door with a quiet click behind him.

"I'll miss you," he whispered under his breath before descending the stairs.

* * *

Hermione woke the next morning to the sunlight pouring in through the open window. Outside, the birds were flying from tree to tree, making as much noise as possible in order to wake her up. Or so Hermione thought, bitterly.

Today was the day Hermione had never wanted to face. It was the day where she would be left in this godforsaken prison without a true friend in the world.

She stumbled downstairs into the entrance hall, blearily rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She took in the sight of Draco's Hogwarts trunk, sitting fully packed by the door. His large owl cage sat beside it, full to the brim with fresh straw and a slice of meat for his hunting owl he had named Herman. She figured this name had something to do with her, and it brought a pinch of a smile to her face. Herman sat inside the large pewter cage, ruffling his wings out in delight when he saw her. He let out a low, moaning hoot as she waved a good morning to him.

Hermione took in a shuddering breath as she watched Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy descend the stairs into the entrance hall. They were both donning outerwear; Narcissa a cream hat and the same trench coat she had worn the day before, Lucius draped a

black coat around himself and pushed his wand into a walking cane.

"Draco!" Narcissa called loudly.

A bustle of noise floated down from the top of the stairs, and then Draco walked down, fixing his collar.

"Here, mother," he said as he arrived at his mother's side.

"Are we all set?" Lucius asked.

Draco nodded, and Dobby squeaked in conformation. In unison, Draco left the house with his mother and father, stealing one last glance at his friend.

When the Malfoy's had left the estate, Hermione walked to the kitchen. She met Marta and continued her daily chores numbly. She felt emotionless, and horrified at the same time.

He was really gone.

* * *

Hermione collected the plates from the remainder of Lucius and Narcissa's dinner, expressionless. When Marta let her go for the night, she quickly climbed the stairs towards her room. As she passed Draco's bedroom door, which had been left shut, she paused.

Glancing around beside her, she checked she was alone in the corridor, before pushing the door open and slipping inside.

Draco's room was dark, with a scrap of moonlight flooding in through the window. She scanned the room she knew well. The bed, the desk, the bookshelf… the toy box, and the wardrobe. She placed her hand on top of the toy boy gently, and continued to gaze around the room. She walked over to the base of the bookshelf and sat down. She finally let the tears out.

Hermione, who was orphaned and forced to be a serving girl, had never felt so alone before.

That night, she fell asleep on the floor of Draco's room.


End file.
